


3am

by Fishy5891



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bottom Poe Dameron, Eventual Poe Dameron/Finn, Finn gets lost in thought, Finn tops, Gay Poe Dameron, I think so anyway, M/M, Oh wait, POV Finn (Star Wars), PWP, Poe is a sassy little shit, You can't, but you gotta have some buildup, cannon can shut up, change my mind, especially around Poe, i need to stop adding tags now, i'm not sorry about it, it just wasn't relevant to the main story, tbh, the hill i'm gonna die on, the plot is just for the porn, they really are gay, this really happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishy5891/pseuds/Fishy5891
Summary: “You coulda’ just come in if you said it was you,” Poe says through a stifled yawn. Finn feels a stab of guilt. “Got your own ass into bed and saved me the effort,” he grumbles, but Finn feels him smile.*****Basically what it says on the tin (or in the tags). Explicit. A pwp set on the Falcon. There's really not much more to it than that. Poe is a smug bastard. Finn loves him for it. I'll say no more.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 22
Kudos: 235





	3am

**Author's Note:**

> Ok!
> 
> This is my first time wiring m/m fic, so I have literally no idea if I did this right. I also don't really know that much about star wars tbh. I've only seen the recent trilogy (I'm sorry!! ok!!), but I DO know that these boys were meant to be gay. I don't make the rules. It's just the truth.
> 
> This is pretty explicit, and again my first time writing this kind of stuff about dudes, so if you have constructive criticism for the love of god please let me know.
> 
> And if I've gotten something wrong about the Star Wars universe... it's probably a lost cause. But you can tell me all the same - I appreciate feedback in all it's forms :)
> 
> Just to add: I first posted this when it was nearly 1am here. I'd edited the shit out of it beforehand, but there were (and maybe still are?) some rubbish bits and typos left in. I've spent the day going through the entire thing /again/, so I hope I've caught most of them now. This is basically just a shout-out to anyone who read this within the first 24 hours it was up lmao. Hope it's even more polished now!
> 
> Finally, a quick shout-out to Hannah, who's had to listen to me rant, drone, and basically live and breathe this fic since January. Thanks bub xxx

“It’s three in the morning,” Poe groans blearily into the dark. “Fuck off.”

The instruction falls short of a threat by the pillow plastered onto Poe’s face, muffling his words. It would make Finn laugh, if he didn’t feel so guilty for waking Poe up. He shuffles in the doorway, embarrassed.

“Sorry, I just…” Finn cuts himself short. He sighs. “Never mind.”

Finn turns away from the door when a pillow lands with a soft thud by his feet. He raises an eyebrow and looks back at Poe, and immediately forgets why he came. The pale light from the corridor that filters into the room illuminates Poe, catching the light dusting of stubble on his cheeks and the flyaway strands of his sleep-rumpled hair. _Oh._ Poe's dishevelled; on just the right side of sleepy. He looks impossibly inviting, and Finn imagines he could sink into the bed with him and tangle their limbs together; feel Poe's steady breathing against his chest, and-

“Finn? Hey, buddy, you doin’ ok there?”

Finn registers the words slowly, the concern in Poe’s voice seeping into his consciousness like a trickling stream.

“Uh," Finn says, stupidly. And then: "I’m good!” 

It's little too pitched and hasty to be believable, and Finn’s glad for dark: at least Poe can't see the blush that's clawing it's way up his face.

Poe ignores Finn's poor attempt at retraction and pats the space on the bed next to him. Finn walks over a little sheepishly, door shutting behind him with a gentle _click_. He wilfully ignores Poe’s “wanna talk about it?” in favour of leaning back into the mattress and emitting a low groan, rubbing his eyes and pressing his palms into his skull. Poe sighs good naturedly, shuffling around Finn until they’re both lying the right way round on the bunk.

“You coulda’ just come in if you said it was you,” Poe says through a stifled yawn. Finn feels a stab of guilt. “Got your own ass into bed and saved me the effort,” he grumbles, but Finn feels him smile.

Finn still doesn’t reply beyond a resigned _“hmh!"_. But Poe's never had an issue with Finn's silences, and Finn never fails to feel grateful for it.

He breathes in: feels the curls of Poe’s hair tickle against his nose and the rise and fall of Poe’s body against his chest. They’ve done this before, tangled themselves together on a tight bunk, sharing the task of forgetting they can’t sleep: during missions, where space was limited and sharing a room was unavoidable; on the not-so-occasional nights back on base, where one of them would trek to the others' room, almost wordlessly slipping into a warm bed and familiar body; and now, much more recently, in their shared bunker back at Resistance, which became a necessity for space-saving measures only just before it became an inevitability of their relationship. One that, Finn swore red-faced and spluttering to anyone who suggested otherwise, was only friendship.

 _Only_ , Finn sighs inwardly, as Poe leans into his arms, _friendship_.

There's a momentary pause.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Finn says eventually, admitting the obvious.

It’s not a need to fill the silence, as such. It’s more a need to hear Poe’s voice, soothing and affectionate and steady and right now, used just for Finn _._ Finn likes it when Poe’s just for him.

“I getcha’,” replies Poe, because he always does.

They go in circles, Finn muses; sleep not coming despite the reassuring body tucked next to his. They’re at each-other’s throats: jesting, teasing, pulling back and forth. Testing new boundaries; knocking down walls. Thinly veiled insults and trash-talk, sarcasm second nature, riling each other up and crashing back down, gently. Then talking, for hours, first out of forced proximity, and now out of self-constructed constant companionship. Poe is a constant in Finn’s entirely _non_ -constant life. And that’s good, really, because Finn wouldn’t want him to be anywhere else.

The room is quiet; Poe hasn’t pressed Finn to say more. They always end up like this.

But these silences are intrinsic, really, to whatever the hell it is they are. Cooped-up in a small bunk on the Falcon, pretending like they don’t do this nearly every night; like they don’t attract each other like bees to honey and that either of them can sleep without the other. Finn _likes_ these silences - _needs_ the intimacy, not that he’d ever admit it aloud. It’s a kind of understanding that he can’t trace the beginning of, but craves desperately. And it’s mutual. Poe once said he could be any or no version of himself around Finn. It took Finn a while to understand what he meant, but he gets it now. Finn feels an inexplicable sense of belonging around Poe. It’s like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place: calm, natural, and inevitable. But Finn keeps that firmly to himself.

Poe rolls over to face him. He’s worried - Finn can see it in the tightness of his shoulders and in the way he looks aged; worn. Finn hates that tonight he’s the reason for it. His fingers itch to smooth the crease of Poe’s forehead; erase the worry. But Poe’s ever observant, and never one to let people fuss over him. He gently punches Finn on the nose – an affectionate tap in lieu of what, Finn thinks, should be a hand cupped around his cheek, and a soft kiss.

“Cheer up, buddy,” Poe says as he waggles his eyebrows at Finn, “things could be worse.”

Finn smiles, just a little, and takes the words for what they’re meant: _you’re ok; I’m ok; we’re_ _ok._ He considers them for a moment.

“Yeah, I ‘spose they could,” he murmurs into the wisps of Poe’s unruly hair, before settling back down and releasing a yawn.

They go in circles, Finn muses, and so sometimes the silence morphs: changes into a need for contact that goes beyond a weight at end of the mattress, one pillow stretching between two heads. It ebbs and it flows like the tide: predictable, safe, like clockwork. And so, as much as some nights they go for hours, both awake, barely saying a word, it isn’t surprising to Finn when Poe asks:

“Whatcha thinking about?”

The tide is in, then.

“Nothing,” Finn replies simply; a cop-out he feels guilty for. But it’s easier than the truth: _you_.

“How’s that working out for ya?” Poe says casually. A beat. “I thought that was my job?”

Finn laughs. Contrary to popular belief, or maybe the one Poe artfully crafts for himself, he’s actually incredibly sharp. He’s a tangle of instinct and wit and intelligence, wrapped in a human-shaped parcel, and best placed in anything remotely flyable. Poe's clever, and he knows Finn. And right now, he’s calling Finn’s bluff. So Finn shoves him. It’s not enough to knock Poe off the mattress, but it does earn him a victorious grin from Poe at the confirmation that he’s hit the nail on the head. So Finn relinquishes... a little.

“Ok, ok, it’s just…" Finn searches for words that don’t come. "Stuff. Everything, I guess.”

Poe cocks his head solemnly: “that’s a lot.”

He’s feigning gravity, but it’s not mocking.

Poe likes to dart around subjects, mouth working at lightspeed and brain barely keeping track. It took Finn a long time to realise Poe was opening up to him, and longer still to understand his language. He jumps between subjects, sure, but they’re all linked. Finn’s spent a lot of time learning Poe, and can now reliably trace fragments and themes and clues to identify what’s actually wrong. It’s a skill he's quietly proud of. And, if nothing else, Finn can usually keep Poe talking until he finally comes out with whatever he's trying to say.

“Anything I can do to help?” Poe’s genuine this time, leaning on his elbow to look at Finn properly; like there’s no-one in the galaxy he’d sooner be talking to.

Finn, opposite to Poe in ways that are often startlingly and surprisingly complimentary, likes to be efficient. If he doesn’t feel like opening up, he’ll resolutely avoid the subject until they drop it. Poe’s getting better at waiting. Experience tells them both Finn will come to Poe when he knows what – or mainly, _how_ \- to say, and Poe never fails to be ready, focussed and quiet, to listen.

So Finn considers the offer. _Is_ there anything Poe could do?

Well, _yeah_. Finn winces, and tries not to let the idea show on his face. There’s something Poe could do, alright, but it’s not talking, and it _definitely_ involves some coping mechanisms _not_ outlined in the Resistance handbook. Finn closes his eyes, willing his mind to think of something, _anything_ else. Poe’s still watching him, gaze steady and expectant. It bores into Finn; makes him hot under the collar and the air around him crackle.

 _No._ Finn _has_ to think of something else. There’s no way Poe would be up for what Finn wants him to be.

Except, Poe hasn’t moved for a while now, brown eyes locked onto Finn’s own. Finn resists the urge to squirm; Poe notices. There’s flicker of his eyes; an almost imperceptible change in atmosphere. A buzz that cuts through the tension that wasn’t there a moment a go. And maybe Finn really _is_ going crazy. He wouldn’t be surprised – he’d pretty much expected it to happen at some point. But now he’s about to stupid, and _kriff_ , Finn wished that was new.

He takes a steadying breath. “You need to tell me if you want me to stop.”

Poe looks at him expectantly, and Finn coughs, stalling. Poe just cocks an eyebrow, like he knows what Finn’s about to do; like he’s daring him to go through with it.

If this goes well, Finn thinks he’ll have to make Poe regret being such a cocky bastard. But the thought is fond as he rolls his eyes, and checks for any signals to stop. None. He reaches up and gently grasps a fistful of Poe’s hair. Finn swears he hears Poe breathe _‘finally’_ , but he doesn't stop to be sure, because then he's pressing his lips onto Poe’s, and every moment before is irrelevant.

Time, in every conceivable capacity, stops.

There’s a faint smell of engine oil and grease, and it makes Finn want to laugh, because _how is that what’s important right now?_ But it’s true. All Finn’s senses are overwhelmed with Poe: the scratch of his stubble; the strength of his hands as they cling on to Finn; his chapped lips, rough and delicious, pressing firmly onto Finn’s own. Poe was doing incredible things with his tongue, tracing Finn’s lower lip, making all the blood in his body run south. Poe groans when Finn grips his hair tighter, muscles dancing at Finn’s clumsy touches over his cotton shirt. Finn moves his hand lower, right down to the hem, and slips beneath. Finn brushes the skin there, travelling further into the tight space beneath Poe’s waistband, touching, exploring-

And then Poe topples over.

He yelps in surprise, and it’s immediately followed by grunt from Finn as Poe lands in an ungraceful heap on top of him.

Silence. Finn doesn’t know what to do with it.

They stare at each other through the thick haze. Poe’s panting, dishevelled, hair messy and eyes wild. His lips are plush, his body's resting along Finn’s length. Poe laughs a little, but it’s hollow, and he’s looking at Finn with an unfathomable expression on his face; mouth set in a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Poe says _“sorry!”_ at the same time as Finn says _“that was stupid of me,”_ and Poe abruptly looks like a kicked puppy. He sits up, gathering himself as far away from Finn’s body as he can get whilst sitting on it. Finn regrets the loss of contact.

“That-” Poe begins, and stops. He’s searching for words, hands fiddling with Finn’s shirt where they’re resting on his torso. He sighs, looking at Finn levelly. “You don’t regret that, do you?”

Finn gapes. “Where the hell did you get that impression from?”

Poe looks relieved, bashfully running a hand through his hair. The tension between them dissipates. “Oh, good. I, uh- I wasn’t sure if you meant it - when you said that was stupid.”

“Oh,” it’s not Finn’s most eloquent moment. He panics, flailing to rectify the misunderstanding. “No. Kriff. Oh man, Poe, I-”

Poe laughs, and rests a hand on Finn’s shoulder to shut him up. Finn collects himself.

“Ok,” Finn takes a breath, “that’s... not what I meant. I, uh…” Finn was shy now, like all his bravado was used in kissing Poe and now, when asked to explain himself, it's left him, hanging, teetering off a cliff. He coughs awkwardly. “I just shoulda’ thought about where you were before I pulled you down, I guess.”

Poe grins, visibly relieved.

“Phew!” He drags it out, stretching himself along the length of Finn’s body, wriggling a little; teasing. A smirk etches its way onto Poe’s face as he leans forward, nose inches from Finn’s. “But I can take it harder than that, you know.”

Finn groans, half laughing, as Poe leans down until his breath ghosts Finn’s face.

“Again?”

Finn tries to reply – something along the lines of _yes_ or _smug bastard_ or _please_ \- but Poe’s face is _right there_ , nearly within reach, and it’s horribly distracting. Finn can’t move; can’t think. He’s frozen beneath Poe, brain short-circuiting so all he can do nod, dumbly, and move his hands from the dip of Poe’s hips to the soft curve of his arse. Finn rests them there, because he wants to, and judging by the stutter of Poe’s breath and the way his eyes blow wide, smirk all but wiped off his face, he’s not going to argue.

But Poe’s smirk stays absent, and that would be alarming, if his expression wasn’t suddenly, ridiculously, soft. He presses his nose to Finn’s gently, and Finn isn't sure whether to melt into the touch or demand more. His eyes flutter shut but his hips rut against Poe’s off their own accord, his body torn between softness and satisfaction. Poe laughs. It’s breathy and hot, and Finn can’t help but catalogue that sound away for later, private use. But once again Finn’s thoughts are interrupted, because Poe leans down that inch further, and kisses him.

Poe is infuriatingly delicate. Finn growls, unsatisfied, and Poe hums what would be a laugh, if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. It vibrates through Finn, making a beeline to his increasingly engaged dick, and Finn whines, cursing Poe for taking this moment, _of_ _all moments_ , to be gentle. Poe mutters something about _“patience, buddy,”_ and Finn’s torn between wanting to smack him, or fuck him. _Both._

Finn could move things faster, if he wanted to. One roll would have him pinning Poe down, taking control. It’s a wondrous thought; one that has Finn’s nerves on edge and breath caught in his throat. It’s not even a question whether Poe would mind. But Finn waits. For now. Poe’s grinding onto Finn with persistent yet gentle pressure, and Finn figures he doesn’t have the capacity move even if he wanted to. It’s gloriously slow, horrifically teasing, and Finn’s never been so aroused in all his life. He’s squirming, touching whatever parts of Poe he can find, hand snaking into the back of Poe’s hair. He presses Poe’s hot mouth harder onto his own; wraps an arm around the solid expanse of Poe’s back, pulling their bodies deliciously flush.

It loses their rhythm. Poe stumbles, laughing, and traces open-mouthed kisses along Finn’s jawbone. He’s still teasing, but Finn can see he’s losing patience too, erratic and hasty as he mouths down Finn’s neck. Finn rolls his hips harder, creating desperate friction, as Poe’s hands slide underneath his shirt. Nimble fingers trace Finn’s chest, wandering higher, and then lower, slipping underneath Finn’s waistband. It’s all Finn can do to grip Poe’s waist and shudder. He utters a truly pathetic _‘please’_ and Poe stops, removing his hands.

Finn shamelessly ruts into the empty space, but Poe’s murmuring into his ear, breath hot and ragged and heavy. “Sit up, buddy, c’mon.”

That’s the last thing Finn wants to do, but he complies begrudgingly, because Poe’s looking at him so imploringly that frankly, he can't say no. Finn removes his shirt while he’s up, throwing it across the room without a second glance, because Finn swears to whatever deity is listening that if he has to spend _one more moment_ with layers of fabric between him and Poe, there’s going to be trouble. Poe whistles appreciatively, and Finn smiles lopsidedly, tugging at the hem of Poe’s shirt.

When Poe reaches to take it off, Finn catches his hands.

“Not like that.”

Poe looks up, sharply, and Finn guides the hands to his mouth. He places a few wet, reverent, open-mouthed kisses to each, brushing the knuckles with his lips, before dropping them gently lifting Poe’s shirt over his head himself. There’s a soft look of wonder gracing Poe’s face, and Finn so very much wants to keep it there. So he captures Poe’s lips in a soft kiss, cupping Poe’s chin in one hand and his cheek in the other. Poe sighs, and wraps both arms loosely around Finn’s neck. For a moment, Finn forgets to be impatient. After another, Poe doesn’t. He detaches his mouth from Finn’s only to drag hot kisses along his jaw, down his neck, sucking obscenely at the base of Finn’s throat. Finn tips his head back and distractedly moves his hand back to Poe’s waistband, dipping underneath and holding Poe through his pants. Poe jolts so hard, Finn can’t help but laugh.

“Off?” Poe sounds hopeful, shifting against Finn’s grasp.

“Yeah,” Finn breathes, thoughts momentarily clouded by Poe’s hands on his bare chest. “Everything. Off.”

“Alright,” Poe mumbles against Finn’s neck, “you too then.”

“That so?” Finn teases, getting bold, enjoying the way Poe tenses as he palms him through his pyjamas. “Never known you to delay taking off your clothes.”

Poe stutters as Finn increases the pressure. “Special occasion,” his breath is ragged, “wanna see you naked.”

Finn chokes, flushed. He stammers, feeling like he should say something along the lines of _thanks_ or _fuck_ or _are you sure?_ , but Poe’s way ahead of him, kissing him soundly and thoroughly, drowning Finn's protests before they’re even formed clearly in his head.

“You’re hot, buddy,” Poe informs him, grin so wide and eyes so mischievous Finn realises it’s only a matter of time before Poe truly is the end of him.

Poe scoots off the bed and for a moment, left bereft of his touch, Finn wonders dumbly where he’s going. But Poe obediently removes his clothes like Finn asked him to, sauntering back over to bunk where Finn is very unsubtly appreciating the view. Finn reaches for Poe’s hips, and stands to kiss him soundly, slipping his hands down to cup Poe’s arse. Poe groans appreciatively, but places a hand on Finn’s chest, pushing him away.

“Off,” he nibbles along Finn’s jaw, tugging at his waistband, “please.”

Finn runs his hands along Poe’s body before stepping away to kick off his pyjamas. Poe stops him before Finn can peel off his pants.

“Not yet,” he says, and Finn stills, shooting Poe a confused look.

“I’m gonna suck you off.” It’s a statement, but Poe quickly amends: “If that’s what you want?”

Finn isn't entirely what he wants, stuck somewhere between _everything_ and _yes please_ and _you_ , but Poe’s mouth on him seems like a good start.

But he still has a question: "don’t my pants have to be off for that?”

Poe looks positively lethal.

“Oh buddy,” he smirks, “not yet.”

A thrill of anticipation runs up Finn’s spine. He’s still confused, but unconcerned. At this point, he’s up for just about _anything_ so long as it gets Poe’s body back on his _._ There’s no way this could be bad.

“Trust me?” Poe reaches for him, resting his hands on Finn’s hips.

Finn can’t believe Poe asked the question.

“Always.”

The look on Poe’s face at that makes Finn think of the words _in_ and _love_ , but that seems like a lot to deal with right now. Instead, he lets Poe back him onto the frame of the bunk, metal pole pressing uncomfortably into his back. He smashes his mouth against Poe’s eager and waiting one before he has the chance to say anything out loud.

When they part, it’s just enough for their noses to stay touching. Finn’s breathing shallowly, and Poe slides his nose across Finn’s face to rest his head in the crook of Finn’s neck. Finn takes the moment to gather his breath, but promptly loses it again when Poe starts back up, licking and sucking obscenely at Finn’s pulse-point. Poe goes lower, hands brushing a distracting pattern up and down Finn’s sides. Poe nips at Finn’s collarbone, hands tickling Finn’s ribs as he licks a clean stripe down the centre of Finn’s chest. Finn’s hands are anchored to the bar behind him, not trusting his body alone to hold him up. Poe doesn’t stop; just mouths the skin above Finn’s navel, fingers pressing into Finn’s hipbone, breath teasing his waistband. Poe stops for a second, and there’s a shock of cold air where his hot mouth once was. Finn mourns the loss of contact, but waits patiently, eyes half closed. He expects any second to feel the brush of Poe’s hands under his waistband; the tug of elastic as Poe pulls his pants off.

Finn had been wrong. Things get bad alarmingly quickly. Neither of the expected sensations come, and before Finn has the chance to wonder what the fuck is going on, Poe’s mouth is on him. _Through_ his pants.

“That’s filthy,” Finn manages to gasp, the authority he was aiming for lost.

Poe humms, and Finn figures it roughly translates to _‘told you it would be good’_ , but he doesn’t have the capacity to reply. His legs are tense, trembling with the effort of holding himself up. But Poe’s hot, _wet_ mouth is still _there_ , kissing and sucking and _fuck_ , how has Finn gone his entire life so far without _this?_ Finn figures if died _right here_ , he wouldn’t be sorry.

Poe doesn’t stop; seems completely immersed in the task of removing the air from Finn’s lungs. His hands are peeling the elastic waistband from Finn’s hips before Finn regains enough focus to realise. He lifts his legs numbly at Poe’s gentle coaxing, hearing the soft thud of fabric landing across the room. There’s no pause. Poe takes Finn in his mouth entirely, and Finn’s vision goes black. His hands tighten around Poe’s hair, and Finn has to remind himself to breathe. He feels everything and nothing. It’s too much and not enough. Poe does this _thing_ , with his _tongue_ , and now breathing is useless altogether. There’s no point when Poe’s taking such care to remove it. His mouth hollows around Finn to create wonderful pressure, and Finn begins to feel the tension build; a slow burn in the pit of his stomach that radiates, lower and _more_ , and for a second Finn relishes in it.

But he’s not ready for this to be over yet.

“Poe,” Finn shuts his eyes for a moment, hand gently curled into Poe’s hair.

He can wait a little longer.

Poe’s eyes flicker to meet Finn’s, and he slowly removes his mouth from Finn’s dick, cocking his head. Finn tries not sigh at the loss.

“I was gonna-” A pang of want spikes through him, making him pause. Finn breathes through his nose. “I was close.”

Poe looks confused, and then suddenly unsure. “Wasn’t that the plan?” His voice is softer usual. “That’s not what you want?”

Finn slides his back down the frame of the bed, crouching until he’s level with Poe. He cups Poe’s chin, gently, tracing his jawline with his thumb.

“Oh _kriff,_ Poe, course I want that.” Finn leans forward until their noses touch. “But what about you?”

Finn practically _hears_ the gears click in Poe’s head, who grins, relieved.

“Honestly?” Poe bumps their heads together. “Getting you off would be damn hot.” Finn rolls his eyes. “Would p’rolly be enough for me.”

Finn laughs.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Obviously.” Poe says it with a flourish, hands trailing Finn’s chest distractedly. “But I guess if you _insisted_ on getting those gorgeous, strong hands of yours on me, I s’pose I could get behind that.” His lips brush Finn’s jawline seductively.

“You could, huh?” Finn plays along, arching into the touch. “Guess I’d better get on with it.”

Poe’s arms gently wrap around Finn’s neck as he kisses back up to Finn’s nose. His voice is breathy. “Off you go, then.”

Finn takes a moment to admire the view, Poe so close he’s blurred. His grin is infectious as it is beautiful. “C’mere.”

And with that Finn’s reaching around Poe, pulling their bodies together, skin against skin: rough and heated. Poe’s hands are wandering, fingers reaching to tease the wisps of hair at the nape of Finn’s neck, hot wet mouth glued to Finn’s. Finn reaches down to cup Poe’s arse, kneading and soothing, brushing upwards to the plains of Poe’s back to trace meaningless patterns. Poe’s stubble is scratchy against Finn’s skin and his hands are wild, exploring Finn’s chest, hands splaying across the sculpted muscles. Poe’s mouth is following, leaving a damp trail across Finn’s shoulders, collarbones, neck. Finn begins to tease the softness of Poe’s inner thighs, tracing the smooth skin and enjoying the way Poe arches and tenses under his touch. Poe mumbles a quick _‘hang on’_ into Finn’s ear; it tickles his face and leaves goosebumps in its wake. Finn stills his hands, confused, until Poe ungracefully clambers on top of him.

Poe Dameron is filthy. Filthy and naked and glorious in Finn’s lap. Finn doesn’t know what to think, or where to touch first. Poe’s kissing him again, and yeah, that’s nice. So Finn runs his hands through Poe’s hair and sucks on his bottom lip appreciatively. He doesn’t miss Poe’s whine. Poe’s rutting against him, and Finn’s hips are grinding upwards to meet them. Everything's hot. The room is stuffy and claustrophobic, and there’s a bead of sweat trickling down Poe’s neck. Finn has a sudden urge to lick it, so he does, a thick purposeful stripe from the base of Poe’s throat to the skin behind his ear. Finn laps at the taught skin there; grazes his teeth with more force when Poe starts to moan. Poe’s hands have gone limp, pitifully clutching Finn’s thighs, neck craning to give Finn more room. Finn’s overcome with the urge to lick and suck _right there_ until Poe’s absolutely wrecked. An alluring thought. He would’ve gone through with it, too, if the pressing hardness of Poe against his stomach hadn’t reminded Finn of his own aching condition.

“Bed,” Finn says, after reluctantly detaching his mouth from Poe. He gives the raw skin a light nip for good measure. And then “flip,” when Poe lies on his back.

Poe shuffles, propping himself on his elbows. “Uh, sure thing,” there’s a hint of uncertainty in his voice, “but I kinda wanted to watch?”

Finn manoeuvres onto the bed, hovering over Poe.

“Sure, in a sec.”

Then Finn realises he’s commanding more than suggesting, and doing a poor job of getting his words out besides. He softens his tone.

“I’d like to try something first, if that’s alright. But after…” He strokes Poe’s hair, trying not to sound as awkward as he feels. “I’d like to see you, too.”

Poe’s smile is easy. “Sweet!”

He dutifully rolls over and grabs a pillow, hugging it to him for all the world like he’s be about to go to sleep.

“So,” Poe says nonchalantly, making a show of wriggling on the bunk to get comfy, “what did you have in mind?”

Finn grins wickedly, not that Poe can see. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he trails his mouth down Poe’s body, from his nape to his ass, placing soft kisses into the small of Poe’s back. He rests his chin Poe’s ass, and wonders when Poe’s going to catch on. But Poe just sighs, content. Not yet then. Finn gives an experimental nip to a particularly plush cheek, breath hot and damp and more a teasing scrape of teeth than anything else, but Poe arches into the touch.

“Oh,” he breathes.

_There we go._

“Oh fuck, Finn. Are you-” the words catch in Poe’s throat as Finn continues teasing, “are you gonna-”

Finn humms, entertained in a fond, appreciative kind of way. Poe’s squirming beneath him.

“Is that ok?” Poe’s body is telling Finn all he needs to know, but he figures he’d like to hear it out loud.

“Oh _kriff_ yeah. Fuck, Finn, that’d be _so_ good.”

Finn regards the taught body beneath him, stretched along the length of the bunk and near quivering in anticipation.

“Alright.” Finn’s voice is barely a whisper; more a vibration against Poe’s body.

Poe sighs, relaxing into the mattress.

Finn gives a tentative lick just outside Poe’s entrance, experimenting, getting a feel, and Poe bucks so hard Finn has to place a hand on his hip to hold him down. Poe stills, but Finn can feel he’s tensed, waiting. Finn considers dragging this out. He could go slow and wring Poe out until the absolute end, shattered and wrecked and _kriff,_ that’s tempting. But Poe whimpers Finn’s name, craning his neck to see why he’s stopped. It catches Finn so off-guard he’s momentarily stunned into stillness. _Fuck._ Finn's not really sure what the emotions are that stir in reaction to Poe saying his name like _that,_ but he's got enough presence of mind to figure that now's not the time to figure it out. Besides, Poe's whining his name again, and Finn wants to keep that going for as long as he can.

His grip on Poe’s hip tightens, reassuring. “I got you.”

Finn gently brings his mouth down from the curve of Poe’s ass to his entrance, mouthing the soft flesh. He chuckles as Poe writhes, and takes pity, carefully working his tongue inside. Poe releases drawn out sigh. Finn swirls his tongue, delving deeper into the tight muscle, marvelling at the way Poe’s hips buck to meet him. Poe moans into the pillow, and it’s about the sexiest thing Finn’s ever heard. He curls his tongue and oh, _oh_ Poe likes that. So Finn does it again, and again, Poe rutting against the mattress in an attempt to create some friction.

Finn idly realises he could help with that.

He curls an arm underneath Poe, feeling the taught muscles of Poe’s stomach jump under his touch. He hears Poe take a sharp intake of breath. Finn grins, and grasps Poe’s dick loosely; too loosely to give Poe enough of what he wants. But Poe moans anyway, long and low, and fucks into Finn’s hand. Finn chuckles and changes pace, using his tongue to fuck into Poe, tightening the grip on Poe’s dick just fractionally. Poe begins a heady stream of babbling, rolling his hips into Finn and panting into the pillow. It’s only a few moments before he slows, quivering.

“Finn,” he gasps, hands clutching at the bedsheets. “I need… I need…”

Finn agrees, his dick twitching at the prospect.

“Got any lube?” He asks, and then quickly, in case he’s made a mistake: “is that what you meant?”

“Oh _kriff,_ yeah.” Finn smiles, catching Poe’s grin as he looks over his shoulder. “ _Absolutely_ what I meant. Top drawer on the right.”

Finn kisses the top of Poe’s ass softly, fondly, before leaving his body with a sigh, levering himself off the bed to rummage about the drawers. His fingers enclose around a small bottle. _Found it._ He plops back onto the bunk, straddling Poe’s legs.

“How much do you want?”

Poe doesn’t hesitate.

“Everything. You, inside of me. _Right_ now.”

Finn laughs.

“We can’t do that,” Finn kisses _that spot_ behind Poe’s ear and murmurs, teasing: “yet.”

Poe squirms, arching as Finn runs a hand down the length of his spine. “I can take it,” he says petulantly. “Really want you.”

The last part’s more a whine than anything else, and Finn’s _definitely_ going to tease Poe about it later. He oils his hands, purposefully taking his time, and kisses the nape of Poe’s neck affectionately.

“Really want you too,” he says, and means it. He’s achingly hard, and impatient, but there’s so much of Poe left to explore. “Patience buddy. Flip?”

Poe mumbles something along the lines of “don’t _wanna_ be patient,” as he twists around and props himself up on the pillow.

Finn takes a moment to run a hand through Poe’s hair, resting right at the nape, and kiss him thoroughly. Then he’s settling back down by Poe’s truly marvellous arse, one hand gently spreading him open. He slides the first digit in easily, and oh _stars,_ Poe is ready for him. That’s hot. _Really_ kriffing hot.

“Fuck,” Finn breathes.

“Told you I could take it,” Poe grumbles a little self-righteously, but it’s good-natured.

Finn shuts him up by adding a second finger, and Poe hums in satisfaction, eyes fluttering shut. Finn watches, entranced, at the rise and fall of Poe’s chest; the hypnotic wriggle of his hips - how they rise to meet Finn at every thrust and stutter in rhythm when Finn curls his fingers _just so_. He pushes harder, deeper, at Poe’s request, and when Poe parts his lips to moan Finn takes the moment to kiss him, swallowing the sound. Poe laughs in surprise, and loops an arm around Finn, trailing an open mouth along Finn’s jaw to bury his head in the crook of Finn’s neck. Everything smells like Poe. It’s hot and thick and there’s a faint trace of grease and Resistance standard soap. Finn kisses Poe’s shoulder, needing the contact in a way he can’t put words to, and Poe breathes _“more,”_ into his ear.

Finn adds a third finger gently, stretching Poe and revelling in the deep, satisfied sound Poe makes as he does it. He kisses down the length of Poe’s chest, ghosting his mouth along Poe’s dick just hear what sound he might make. Poe yelps. He’s a quaking mess, babbling incoherently as Finn goes faster, twisting his fingers and drilling into Poe. The bedsheets scratch against Finn skin, and where he touches Poe, Finn’s alight. The room's too small and the air around them is thick and heavy, oppressive and hot. There’s sweat running in rivets down Finn’s body, and Poe’s flushed, glistening. He’s canting his hips to meet Finn’s hand and Finn appeases him, reaching deeper and harder and faster.

Poe’s moans are getting louder, more insistent, hands clutching at Finn’s shoulders.

“More, please- _ah._ Finn, I need, Finn…”

His hands slide through Finn’s short hair, and Finn stills a moment, panting. “You sure?”

“ _Fuck!”_ Poe grits it out, shuddering at the pause of motion. “Yeah, m’sure. You?”

Poe’s voice is as steady and controlled as its going to be, and he’s meeting Finn’s eyes through thick eyelashes. Finn traces Poe’s jaw and lifts his chin, appreciating the sight below him. Poe’s beautiful; there’s no other way describe it. He’s flushed right down to his chest, unruly hair a mess on the pillow, lips plump and eyes blown wide. Poe cocks an eyebrow, and Finn just kisses him to avoid the question. It’s fast becoming Finn’s favourite thing to do. He slowly removes his hand from within Poe, trying to ignore Poe’s whimpers at the loss as reaches for the lube. Finn coats his dick liberally and, as an afterthought, runs a slick hand up and down Poe sadly neglected dick a few times, just to fuck with him.

Poe shouts, hips lifting off the bed, and Finn kisses him some more to avoid snickering. It doesn’t work. He gets a whack on the shoulder for teasing; Finn figures it’s deserved. But Poe’s still kissing him, and the millimetres separating them are fast disappearing as Finn mumbles _“you sure?”_ and Poe replies _“get fucked"_ and Finn's snickering, until he's not, sliding his dick into Poe. The tight heat envelopes Finn and oh. _Oh._ Finn sees white, or feels it. The air around him is static, electricity prickling his skin. Poe’s hot and engulfing and _stars above,_ this is going to be over quickly if Finn’s not careful. He holds still, breathing shallowly, desperately trying to control his mutinous body.

“Hey, Finn?”

Finn binks, slowly returning to a hazy reality. Poe’s wrapped his arms lazily around Finn’s shoulder, a look of complete and utter contentment on his face. _Smug bastard_.

“Any chance you’re gonna move buddy?”

Finn opens his mouth to reply, but apparently Poe hadn’t been waiting for one. He warbles on unphased.

“I mean, we could stay like this if you wanted to,” Finn huffs in mock irritation; no real heat in it. “But I think I’ve got a better idea.”

Poe rolls his hips to accentuate the point.

Finn nips Poe’s lower lip in reprimand for being a cocky little shit, and slides all the way in. He watches as Poe squeezes his eyes shut, a soundless _“oh”_ forming on his lips, and gives him a moment, brushing the sweaty hair away from his face.

 _“Fuck,_ Finn.” Poe shuffles, arching his back.

Finn watches in amusement, arms braced either side of Poe’s face. “That’s what we’re doing, yeah.”

Poe laughs, and kisses Finn soundly. Finn takes it as permission to move. He pulls back a little, and rocks forward, trying to gain purchase; establish a rhythm. Poe humms, arching into Finn, hips lifting to meet Finn’s movements, hands gripping his broad shoulders. Finn makes a valiant effort to keep it steady, but it’s messy, erratic, and he’s terrified of losing himself before they’ve even begun. His legs shake with the effort of restraint and his hands tighten in concentration, pressing into hips a little too hard. But Poe grazes his teeth down Finn’s shoulder; pleads “ _more, Finn, please, harder,”_ and Finn figures it would be unfair to them both to refuse. Thank fuck.

The slipping control Finn has over his body is gone as he hooks his hands under Poe’s legs, angling his hips higher, wrapping an arm possessively under Poe’s body to keep him there. He rams into Poe; feels him shake beneath him, revelling in Poe's strangled noises and the way he bucks wildly, _forcefully,_ to meet him. Finn puts his mouth on any part of Poe he can reach, leaning down to graze Poe’s neck, sinking deeper into Poe as he does and there – _there_ – is where Poe wants him. Poe shudders, groaning, and Finn shoots him a shit-eating grin. Poe just lolls his head onto the pillow, wrapping his legs around Finn tighter as he rocks into Poe. The pace is relentless. Poe’s moans fill the room, and Finn shamelessly holds on to every one, working to make Poe make that noise again and again.

Poe reaches up to clasp Finn’s face, and murmuring into Finn’s skin. It takes Finn a moment to realise he’s trying to get his attention, and longer still to understand the words. He slows down, attention clambering to the sound of Poe’s voice. Poe places a steadying hand on Finn’s shoulder, breathing hard.

“Stop a second.”

“What?” Finn’s disbelieving, but he complies.

As always, Poe’s worth it.

He’s steadily coming into focus, Finn’s hazed brain making sense of the world around him. Poe’s a ruined mess on the bunk, breathless and sweaty. His hair is unsalvageable, even more so than usual, wrecked from Finn carding his hands through it. There’s marks running down the length of Poe’s neck, and Finn fights a perverse sense of pride at the sight. Poe’s breathing erratically, hands caressing Finn’s jaw.

“Turn us over,” Poe breathes into his ear. And once Finn’s manoeuvred them: “gonna give you something to watch.”

The breath catches in Finn’s throat, air wholly removed from his lungs. He can only stare, agape, as Poe lowers himself onto him, his hands running down Finn’s sides as he experimentally rocks onto Finn's dick. Finn chokes, and Poe gives him a truly filthy look as he does it again. Finn’s hips move to meet him this time - a jolted, almost delayed reaction - and his hands fly to Poe’s waist to keep them balanced.

Stars forbid this ever has to stop.

The scene is hideously erotic. All sensation outside of Poe is lost to Finn. He’s immersed, lost in the feeling of Poe’s body, sleek and hot and impossibly _good_ against his own. Poe’s lips claim Finn’s mouth as he grinds down like he was made to do it, hands planted firmly on Finn’s stomach; dextrous fingers sliding against smooth muscle. Finn brushes his hands around Poe’s body, feeling and cataloguing and refusing to be useless, though he’s barely retaining the ability to breathe. He works his hands downwards, smoothing over Poe’s leg to brush at his inner thighs.

“S’gonna be over if you that,” Poe warns.

Finn considers his options. Briefly. Then he moves his hand, pressing into the soft flesh with more force, massaging and teasing through Poe’s spluttered protests. He leans up to pull Poe halfway down to capture his mouth in a distracted kiss, closing his fist around Poe’s dick.

The sounds Poe makes is inhuman.

His eyes fly open as he pulls away from Finn sharply, mouth open wide. He watches Finn through hooded eyes as he pulls his hand up and down Poe’s dick with more purpose, grip deliberate and slow strokes aimed at tedious pleasure, tugging Poe to the brink. Poe’s head tilts back, breath loud and heavy, and Finn feels every movement Poe makes. He hears every stutter of his breath and basks in every groan. Poe’s shaking, erratic, as Finn murmurs heady encouragement against the nook of Poe’s shoulder, vibrations reverberating up Poe’s neck. Finn reacquaints himself with the tender skin below Poe’s ear, grinning at the reaction it gets from Poe even now. Poe shakes through his release, spilling over Finn’s hand, and he gives Finn such a chastising look that Finn has to laugh.

Until he doesn’t. Because Poe doesn’t stop moving.

Finn offers: grabs Poe’s hips to ease their movements and runs his hands up toned arms to soften their grip, anchored as they are onto Finn’s shoulders. But Poe’s having none of it, pushing Finn back down; rebuking his every attempt at gentleness with a sharp graze of teeth and a tongue down the side of Finn’s neck. There’s an artful tilt of Poe’s hips and _fuck_ \- a jolt shoots through Finn so violently he’s pressed flat against the mattress, panting, eyes screwed shut at the wave of pleasure ripping through his body. The fact that Poe still doesn’t slow is a blessing and a curse. Finn’s on the edge, chasing the pressure that threatens to crash over his body; desperately trying to outrun it as long as he can. But _Poe._ Kriff, he’s rolling his hips steadily, hands planted onto Finn’s chest, and his mouth is glued to Finn’s neck, encouraging murmurs of nonsense filling Finn’s ear. It’s too much.

Finn grips Poe _harder_ , ruts into Poe _faster_ , and all Finn hears is a groan of appreciation before he’s over the edge; consumed; sprawled out onto the mattress.

It takes a good long while for Finn to reacquaint himself with reality. He lies steady, heart pounding, gingerly opening his eyes. Poe’s resting on top of him, beautiful, all hooded eyes and thick eyelashes and truly wild hair. He’s the very embodiment of thoroughly fucked. Finn licks his lips. Poe’s half-slumped, half-sitting, not fully committing either. Finn figures that can’t be comfortable. He rolls them over, Poe’s kiss-reddened mouth parting in surprise as he laughs softly. Finn reluctantly pulls away enough to pull-out, grabbing his previously discarded shirt to clean them off.

For what must be the billionth time this since he knocked on Poe’s door earlier, Finn lifts his palm to lay flat on Poe’s cheek, his stubble somewhere between scratchy and ticklish and so very excruciatingly _real_ beneath him. Poe’s grinning, bashful, and _kriff:_ Finn wants to kiss him. So he does, hands curling into Poe’s hair in a way that’s in danger of becoming horribly familiar. Poe’s lips are as soft and warm and as inviting as they’ve always been, and Finn can’t supress the sigh he releases as they meet. Poe sighs right back, wrapping his arms around Finn like they were supposed to be there. Finn thinks they absolutely definitely were.

And it makes Finn think, now that he has the capacity to, that he never wants to move from this spot. Never wants to enter a into reality - whether it’s the coming morning or the world outside this door or back at Resistance Base once this mission is complete - where he can’t kiss Poe when he feels like it, or brush the ridiculously messy hair from his face. Can’t wrap his arms around the pliant body pressed so wonderfully against him or trace the smile of Poe’s mouth with his thumb. And Finn didn’t stop to consider, before he kissed Poe that very first time, about how this was supposed to end. He didn’t wonder beyond the feel of the body beneath him, or ask about the day that’ll invariably proceed this night. It didn’t occur to Finn to ask, though he knows he should have, if this was a one night stand or a casual fling, or if he was now allowed pull Poe around by their interlocked hands; kiss him senseless in the middle of the lectures he was prone to give to the trainee pilots.

The thought makes Finn smile, which in turns earns him an amused nudge from Poe.

His voice is sleepy and scratched. “Whatcha’ thinking about?”

Finn’s smile grows wider.

“You,” he replies truthfully, because in the end, everything’s easy with Poe.

The grin that works its way onto Poe’s face threatens to split him in half.

“Aw man,” Poe’s teasing again, shuffling against Finn, natural rhythm apparently restored. “BB-8’s gonna absolutely _rinse_ us about this in the morning.”

Finn grins. That tells him everything he needs to know. It also makes him think of the words _in_ and _love_ , but that’s still a lot to deal with. Instead, Finn lets Poe kiss him senseless, and into sleep.

There might be endless selection of realities waiting for Finn outside of this door. But judging by the dead-weight plastered across his arm and the steady ebb and flow of breath tickling his neck, Finn's pretty assured Poe’s going to be in every single one.


End file.
